


what if i'm down?  what if i'm out?

by salazarsslytherin



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Drunken Confessions, Light Angst, M/M, Maycury Week 2020 (Queen), Post-Break Up, but hopeful of a future get-back-together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26221972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salazarsslytherin/pseuds/salazarsslytherin
Summary: “Wh—Freddie?  What the fuck?” Brian’s voice comes through, rough with sleep and not very happy but Freddie’s just relieved he’s even still in the country.  “Do you even know what time it is?”Freddie doesn’t say anything else and Brian just sighs.“Where are you?” he asks resignedly.Drunk and alone in the middle of the night, despite everything, there's only one person Freddie thinks to call.
Relationships: Brian May/Freddie Mercury
Comments: 9
Kudos: 65
Collections: Maycury_Week_2020





	what if i'm down?  what if i'm out?

**Author's Note:**

> aaaah this is super rough because i've spent basically all my time working on a way longer fic which is STILL NOT FINISHED and i panicked and wanted something to post so!!! i hope it's not too terrible and i apologise in advance for any mistakes! <3 
> 
> HAPPY MAYCURY WEEK!
> 
> content warning for mentions of vomiting. not graphic but freddie's drunk & throwing up at a few points during this fic.

Freddie’s not sure exactly _when_ he tipped past the point of _pleasantly_ drunk into inconveniently drunk, but now he’s now _so_ far past it that he’s at the point of barely being able to walk, his legs wobbling beneath him so he has to clutch the wall to keep upright.He has no idea where Frank or Gerald have gone, can barely remember what the hell either of them had _looked_ like now he thinks about it, but he’s pretty sure they fucked off and left him when it became clear he was too fucked to _do_ anything and now he has no idea where he is and he doesn’t speak any fucking _German_ so he can’t find out.

He has to stop and lean against the wall, bending over as his stomach roils unpleasantly and Freddie grits his teeth against the urge to vomit.Fuck, he should’ve stopped hours ago.He’d _known_ that at the time but the shots had kept coming and every time he finished his vodka tonic a new one seemed to be in his hand.Things have been difficult in the studio lately, the band constantly erupting into fierce arguments, arguments that feel more _real_ than they ever have before.Freddie’s frightened that it’s the beginning of the end and can’t bear the thought, tries to numb it however he can, and it works for a few hours but there always comes a point when nothing will hold it back.

He squeezes his eyes shut, unable to fight it any longer, emptying his stomach on the floor at his feet as anxiety consumes him.He can’t lose this band, he _can’t_.This is his family, his entire life, his only _purpose_ and if it cracks apart now he knows he’ll never recover.But it’s splintering right before his eyes, fissures opening up between all of them over synthesisers and rhythms and disco and Freddie doesn’t know how to fix it.They’re too far down this road to turn back now.

Freddie pushes himself back upright, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and blinking bleary eyes as he tries to take a few steps forward.Every movement makes his head swim and his stomach revolt but he plugs on, wishing he could remember where the fuck he _is_ because he lost track a long time ago, blindly following men who had big hands and dirty mouths.

Now he’s alone and wishing he’d gone back to the hotel earlier but he doesn’t even have his room key and it takes ten minutes just to inch his way out of the club. 

The fresh air outside helps, a bit, but it’s freezing and Freddie only realises then that his t-shirt’s gone as well and he has no idea where, shivering as he staggers down the street to the payphone on the corner. 

There are any number of people he could call; friends in the city, his usual one night stands, paid staff whose _job_ it is to collect him in this state, but he calls Brian. 

He doesn’t even think about it; it’s like an instinct, even though cracks have been appearing in their own relationship since long before they appeared in the band.Since they first arrived in Munich to begin recording, since they stopped whatever the fuck it was they’d been doing before that and Freddie had started doing _this_ and Brian had gotten his own place in the city so they didn’t have to stay in the same hotel any more. 

They just aren’t the sort of people who can be casual with each other.

Freddie had thought at the time that casual was what he wanted; nights like _this_ , being able to let loose and have all the wild fun he wants without letting anyone else down.The _freedom_ of it all, to have a little taste of the life here.And it _had_ been fun, at first, but Freddie doesn’t think he’s enjoyed it for a while now and he doesn’t know how to stop. 

It was always Brian who stopped him before, when he was a twenty-something making bad choices in the dodgy parts of London and Brian would lecture him on going home with men he’d just met and how he _knows_ tequila makes him ill.

Now Brian goes home with whoever he wants and Freddie fucks whoever _he_ wants and it’s exactly what he wanted, isn’t it?Except it isn’t.He hasn’t even seen Brian in two days, and the last time he had hadn’t been pleasant; a screaming match over one of the songs on the album that had ended with Brian telling them all he was fucking _done_ and storming out, leaving the others to finish the track as best they could without him.He’d not showed up to record the next day, or the next.

Still, he picks up on the third ring.

“Brian?” Freddie croaks out, pressing his forehead against the cool metal of the phone, gulping in the frigid air so he won’t throw up again.

“Wh— _Freddie_?What the fuck?” Brian’s voice comes through, rough with sleep and not very happy but Freddie’s just relieved he’s even still in the country.“Do you even know what time it is?”

Freddie doesn’t say anything else and Brian just sighs.

“Where are you?” he asks resignedly. 

“I don’t know,” Freddie admits.He can feel a hot wave rising in him and swallows hard to try and hold it back, sweat gathering on his forehead despite the chill.“A club somewhere.”

Brian groans in frustration.“ _Which_ club, Fred?Help me out here.”

“I don’t _know_ ,” Freddie repeats, and yanks the phone away from his ear as he has to throw up again, tears now spilling down his face to mingle with everything else, clogging his nose so he’s sniffing pathetically by the time he rights himself.

“—find you, alright?Freddie? _Freddie_?” 

“I’m here.”

“Okay.Are you alright?”

Freddie shakes his head but it only makes his head spin and he realises a second later that Brian can’t even see it.“No,” he says wretchedly.

“I’m going to come and find you,” Brian tells him.“Just stay where you are.Is there anyone else around?”

Freddie groans before he gets out a, “No,” and Brian’s not sure if that’s a relief or not.He doesn’t like the idea of Freddie being out there alone in this state but at least if there’s nobody around he’s not in any danger.For now.They all know how quickly things can turn, though—Freddie’s been lucky so far, usually surrounded by throngs of people, but Brian’s stomach clenches sickeningly at the thought of what could happen if the wrong people stumble across him, or even the police. 

He wishes he could stay on the line but he has to hang up so he can hurry down to his car, telling Freddie he’ll get to him as soon as he can and _not to move_ before he hastily pulls on clothes and darts outside.

Brian’s done a fair amount of sight-seeing while they’ve been in Munich, both alone and with others, but he’s surprised by how well he’s actually able to drive through the downtown streets.He’s even more surprised to realise that he knows all of Freddie’s new haunts as he finds himself driving straight to them; Frisco, Henderson’s, the Eiche.He gets out and walks along the streets, even ducks into the buildings himself after being glared at by the security outside, but he doesn’t find Freddie until he remembers the leather bar and wants to kick himself for not checking there first; he _knows_ Freddie.And if he’s in this much of a state it’s not because he went to a disco with some Munich friends; it’s because he went to one of the clubs that make Brian sick with worry and jealousy, the hardcore ones that only let a select few in, the ones where Freddie goes wild and doesn’t show up to the studio until late the next day, usually covered in bruises.

He spots him as soon as he turns onto Müllerstraße, blue-jeaned and shirtless, crouched in the dirty gutter by the wall of some bar.

Brian yanks the car over to the side of the road and jumps out.“Freddie!” he says loudly, running the last few steps to him.“Fuck, you must be freezing, where’s your shirt?”

In his panic he’s slightly rougher than he means to be, hauling Freddie up by the arms, and Freddie winces and groans, nearly falling backward until Brian braces himself against his weight.He arranges Freddie so he’s leaning against the wall behind and quickly shrugs out of his own coat, pulling it around Freddie’s naked shoulders. 

He’s shivering and bleary-eyed, vomit down his chest and all over his jeans.His pupils are blown wide and Brian suspects he hadn’t just been drinking but he doesn’t have the tell-tale rope marks he usually has on his wrists after a night like this.

“Freddie?” Brian calls, catching his face in both palms and carefully tipping his head so he’ll look at him.“Can you hear me?”

Freddie nods miserably, eyes tracking dizzily back and forth as he struggles to focus on Brian.“Yeah,” he says weakly.“Feel sick.”

“I fucking bet you do,” Brian says grimly, pulling one of Freddie’s arms over his shoulders and putting his other arm around his waist to walk him over to the car.“Come on, help me out here, Fred,” he coaxes as he struggles to deposit him into the passenger seat, Freddie’s limbs shaky and weak as a newborn’s.

He manages to get him in and straps the seat belt around him but by the time he’s gotten around to the driver’s side, Freddie's managed to get it undone and tip himself out of the door to puke in the road. 

Brian swears and hurries back around, praying the road stays as empty as it has because Munich is usually good to them, turns a blind eye, but this is the sort of thing he _really_ doesn’t want ending up in the papers.

“Okay?” he asks gently, one hand on Freddie’s back as he crouches beside him, avoiding the puddle while Freddie continues to spit out the last of it, his head bowed.“Bloody hell, Fred,” Brian continues, rubbing his hand up and down because he knows how much Freddie hates being sick and can see tears running off his cheeks even from this angle.“Come on, let’s get you back.You’ll feel better once you’re in a bed and you can get some sleep.”

Freddie gurgles, spits again.“No,” he says breathlessly, one hand clumsily feeling around until he grabs Brian’s wrist.“I _can’t_ , Bri—they—I gave someone my key,” he explains hurriedly, finally pitching back to lean against the side of the car, closing his eyes.“They’ll be waiting for me, I don’t want to—I don’t—”

“Okay,” Brian interrupts, pushing the thoughts of the men who might be waiting for Freddie away.He knows this can only end badly but he’s horribly aware there’s only really one solution; he’s not about to drop Freddie off with men he doesn’t trust at all while he’s in this state.“Fuck.Alright, can you get back in the car?”

Freddie nods and between them they manage to get him tucked back inside, though Freddie refuses the seat-belt, leaning forward to get his head as far between his knees as possible.Brian wants to fight the point but gives up; he’d rather just get Freddie out of here and _inside_ where he can get cleaned up and warm.

“Where’re we going?” Freddie asks once they start driving, carefully picking his head up, both hands braced on the dash in front of him.

“My place,” Brian tells him.“You can stay on the sofa.”

Freddie turns to look at him.“The sofa?Darling, can’t I—”

Brian shakes his head and Freddie _realises_ , with a sick, sinking feeling that makes him dizzy all over again.

“You have someone over?” Freddie guesses quietly.

Brian’s jaw goes tight and he nods stiffly.

Freddie takes a few moments to just breathe and puts his head back down.“Brian, I can’t—take me to the hotel instead,” he says, as firmly as he can manage.

“I don’t think so.”

“Bri, _please_ , I can’t—”

“ _Freddie_ ,” Brian cuts him off roughly.“You called _me_ , alright?So I’m here, and I’m dealing with it.I’m not taking you back to that hotel and dropping you off with—with whoever the fuck you’ve been out with.Don’t ask me to do that, alright?”

Freddie’s silent.

Brian sighs.“You...you can’t keep _doing_ this to me, Fred,” he says desperately.Because he knows he’ll come every time, without question.He couldn’t _not_.Not when he knows Freddie’s out there, tearful and vulnerable, not when he knows that if he _doesn’t_ Freddie’s going to call someone else instead, and Brian just doesn’t _trust_ anyone else with him.But every single time whittles away at what little’s left of him since Freddie broke everything to pieces.It’s killing him.

Because he should’ve been _with_ him, or at least able to bundle him in his arms when he shows up like this, should be able to hold Freddie against his chest and kiss him the way he used to, take him home and look after him and tell him off in the morning for ignoring his limits, the way he always did before.It shouldn’t be like this—stiff and awkward and uncomfortable, a new world of hurt and unspoken things between them.

“I’m sorry,” Freddie says, hoarse.He won’t look up.

“ _You’re_ the one who called it off,” Brian says, feeling his own hands tremble as he tries not to think about it, tries not to remember.It had only been a few short months ago, but Brian feels like he’s aged _years_ in the meantime, lost pieces of himself he doesn’t know how to get back.

“I know,” Freddie says quietly.

“I thought this was what you wanted.”

Freddie breathes in a big, shuddering breath and leans back against the seat, eyes closed as he tips his head back, breathing shallowly.“I thought it _was_ ,” he whispers, more tears slipping out from under his eyelids.

Brian barely dares to ask, knows he shouldn’t when Freddie’s this drunk; it’s not fair.They should discuss it some other time when it’s not four in the morning, when Freddie’s not at his most vulnerable, when Brian’s not hurting quite so much.But he asks now.

“Is it...is it still what you want?”

Freddie shakes his head, miserably, and wipes his tears on the sleeve of Brian’s coat.“Bri, this is... _so_ far from anything I want,” he gets out.

And Brian doesn’t really know what to make of that.It had been Freddie who’d put a stop to everything, Freddie who’d wanted to stretch his wings, as it were.Freddie who’d said neither of them had any business falling into a serious relationship with each other and putting the whole band on the line when all it was _supposed_ to be was a bit of fun. 

It _had_ been fun.A lot of fun.But it hadn’t taken long for it to become more than that, for it to ease from wild nights to gentle mornings, cosy afternoons, romantic dinners.It had all happened so naturally, so perfectly; it was _them_.Brian and Freddie.Freddie and Brian.They’ve worked like that for years, like two sides of the same whole.Freddie knows him like no other, and Brian’s positive the reverse is true, even now.

“What…” Brian begins, and has to clear his throat.“What does that mean?”

Freddie just shakes his head.“Too late, now,” he replies quietly, leaning his head against the window and staring out as the streets pass them by.

“Too late for what? _Freddie_ , will you _talk_ to me?” Brian pleads, taking his eyes off the road to look over at him.“Please just _talk_ to me.”

Because he never _has_ ; he’d just called everything off and backed away, thrown himself into the Munich nightlife and into this new, shitty album the band is working on and the most they’ve _talked_ since then has been during interviews for the press or arguments across the studio or moments like _this_ when Freddie falls flat on his arse and Brian’s still the fool that goes running to him every time.

Freddie’s just shaking his head, his face turned away, but the streetlights glint off the tears on his cheeks and give him away.“I’m _sorry_ ,” he breathes unsteadily.“I’m _sorry_ , Brian.”

“Why?” Brian questions, wishing he wasn’t _driving_ so he could make Freddie look at him.“What for?”

“For everything.For ruining everything,” Freddie says, wiping his face again.“Ruining _us_.”

Brian’s heart seizes in his chest.“You haven’t ruined anything,” he says quietly, desperately trying not to _hope_ but this is more than Freddie’s revealed to him in so long it’s hard not to.He feels closer to Freddie now than he has in months, feels almost like _them_ again even if it’s in the worst possible way.“I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Freddie laughs humourlessly.“Only because I called you.There’s someone else in your _bed_ , Bri.”

Brian pulls his lips together.“I’m supposed to just not see _anyone_ , then?” he asks, riled.“I know _exactly_ what that club was, Fred.I know what _you_ do every night.”

“You really don’t,” Freddie says darkly.

“I have a pretty fucking good idea, Freddie.I’m not blind.”And he’s fucked Freddie enough times to know exactly what he likes, even if he doesn’t know who’s giving it to him any more.“I know all that, and I’m telling you—you haven’t ruined anything,” Brian tells him pointedly, gratefully pulling into his parking space and switching the engine off.

Freddie looks up in surprise, making a face as his stomach revolts again before he turns reluctantly to Brian, who hasn’t made a move to get out of the car.

“What do you—” Freddie starts, and cuts himself off as Brian clears the space between them and kisses him, hard.Just for a moment, for one shining moment, but Brian’s been desperate for it for months, missing it, missing _him_ , and he pours as much of himself into that moment as he can.

Freddie’s eyes are wide when he pulls away, lips parted in surprise. 

“You haven’t ruined anything,” Brian tells him firmly, staring at him.“I’m still right here, Freddie.” 

“I—don’t—”Freddie’s struggling for words, his hands coming up to reach for Brian, and he just catches them to stop him.

“Ssh, don’t worry.Don’t—you don’t have to say anything right now.Let’s just get you inside, okay?”

That task proves to be even more difficult than getting Freddie in the car in the first place; he’s more lucid now but his limbs are as useless as ever and the movement of getting up the stairs to the apartment makes him sick again.

Eventually though Brian manages to get him through the front door, guiding him straight into the bathroom and sitting him carefully on the closed toilet lid.He peels Freddie’s jeans off and grabs a damp cloth to wipe the worst of the sick and grime from the street off of him, running it over his hair to try and untangle it—it smells as though someone spilled a drink on him and it’s dried into a sticky mess. 

Freddie leans into him while he does his best to clean his hair, his breathing slow and even, and Brian rests his hand on him for a few moments after he’s done, relishing the closeness even though he knows Freddie needs to sober up and they need to talk before he lets himself fall back into those old habits.

Now’s not the time for that, though.

“Okay?” Brian asks softly, draping a big towel over his shoulders and guiding Freddie’s hands to hold it closed around him to try and keep him warm.“I’m going to find you some clothes, okay?Wait here for me.”

Freddie nods and watches as Brian disappears from the bathroom, all of his focus on staying upright and not slumping against the wall next to him just to _sleep_.He’s exhausted all of a sudden, but warm and safe.He knows everything will be fine because Brian’s here.That no matter how rubbish he feels in the morning it’ll be alright because he’ll be with Brian, and Brian will look after him.

And Brian _kissed_ him. 

Freddie lets go of the towel to touch his own mouth, his hand clumsy and still cold. 

He can hear Brian out in the hall, his voice low and apologetic and another, a woman’s.Two pairs of footsteps walking away, the front door opening and closing. 

Only one returns.

Brian opens the bathroom door and Freddie gazes up at him, his hand still on his lips.

“Do you still love me?” he asks suddenly, a question he hasn’t been brave enough to even let himself think until it falls out of him like that, and Brian stops dead on the threshold with a bundle of clothes in his arms.

“Do you think I get up at four in the morning and drive through Munich for just anyone?”

Freddie only blinks and Brian closes the space between them, kneeling in front of him, taking Freddie’s frozen hands in his.

“Yes,” he says simply, “I love you.I loved you then, I love you still.Never stopped.”

Freddie looks at him.“Even now?” he asks.

Brian smiles and kisses him again—just once more, before they really do need to talk tomorrow.“Especially now.”

Freddie smiles, satisfied with that, and lets Brian pull him into clothes which are far too big but smell like _Brian_ and even though his head’s still spinning and his legs will barely hold his weight, he feels okay.He feels safe.He feels _loved_.

Brian helps him out of the bathroom but not toward the sofa; they head for the bedroom and Freddie stops, nearly tripping them both.

“Isn’t… _she_ …?”

Brian shakes his head, still supporting Freddie as he nudges the door open.He wishes he could change the sheets before depositing Freddie onto them but needs must, and he’s pretty sure Freddie’s too drunk to notice or care anyway.

“She’s gone,” he explains, kicking off his trousers and climbing into bed with him, carefully staying on his side. 

Freddie sucks in a breath.“Brian!” he scolds, though he has to hide his triumphant smile in the pillow.“It’s the middle of the night.”

“I called her a cab.”He doesn’t really care, in all honesty, as long as she gets home safe.Of course he doesn’t wish anything bad on her but it wasn’t like she meant anything to him, Brian doesn’t even know her last name.All of them have just been meaningless, distractions, ways to pass the time and try to feel good while he ignored the hole that had been opened up inside him.It had been impossible to fill, though.

Until now.

Freddie still smells a bit of alcohol and sour with vomit but Brian holds him close as he tucks himself into his chest, heedlessly burying his face in his hair.

Freddie’s asleep within minutes but Brian forces himself to keep his eyes open a while longer, taking him in.They have a lot to talk about but it finally feels like they’ll be able to, like they can put the last few months behind them and start over, on a new blank page.

What that page will look like, he isn’t sure.But he _is_ sure it’ll look better than the last, and for now that’s more than enough for him.


End file.
